


I Love You When You're Sick

by Deannie



Series: I Love You When [7]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-09-26
Updated: 1997-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7th in the 'I Love You When' series. Blair gets sick.<br/>Sequel to I Love You When You're Busy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You When You're Sick

Jim came home early, the paperwork at the office not nearly enough to keep him interested. Blair was at home, working on the final draft of his dissertation, and the bullpen had felt curiously empty without him. 

As the detective was walking up the stairs toward their apartment, he heard a tell-tale cough coming from inside. It sounded painful, and went on for the entire time it took Jim to reach the door. As soon as Jim's key hit the lock, the cough was expertly supressed. 

"Hey, Chief?" 

"In the study," came the slightly strangled response. Jim followed the voice to what had once been Blair's bedroom, turning up his sense of touch so he could feel the extent of Blair's fever as he approached him. 102, he figured. Maybe a little lower. Certainly too high to be working on that damn dissertation. 

"Hi, Big Guy," Blair greeted him with a smile. His nose was a wonderful shade of red, and his eyes showed clearly the sickness that had merely been a light cold yesterday. 

"How are you feeling?" Jim asked quietly, reaching out to put a hand to his lover's forehead and confirm his guess about the fever. It was lower than he'd thought. Maybe 101. Still... 

"I'm okay," Blair shrugged easily. He turned back to his computer and saved the portion of the thesis he'd been working on. "Just a cold, Jim. It'll work itself out." 

"Not if you don't get some sleep," Jim observed. The dark circles under Blair's eyes weren't the only clue Jim had to his lover's sleeping patterns. Blair hadn't come to bed last night until three, and he'd been up and back to work before Jim even awoke. "Have you eaten today?" 

Blair shrugged again. "A little. I had some soup for lunch." 

"Which was when?" 

The younger man blushed, looking at his watch. "Six hours ago." 

Jim turned toward the kitchen. "I'll make you some chicken noodle." 

Blair rose to try to stop him. "No, it's okay, man, really." He tried to hide the sudden green tinge to his skin that came with the word "food". "I'm not really all that hungry." 

"Been getting sick, too," Jim replied, smelling the faint hint of foulness from the bathroom. If the kid wasn't keeping anything down... 

"Not really," Blair said quickly. "Just... Disagreed with me this morning." 

"Uh-huh," Jim responded, turning to look his lover over. "Look, Chief, why don't you go lie down for a while. I can wake you in a few hours, and you can go back to work on the thesis." 

Blair shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Look, I just want to get this one section done, then I'll go to bed. I promise." 

Jim looked down into those puppydog eyes, and realised that he wasn't going to win this fight. Even sick, Blair had the advantage with those eyes. 

"Okay. At least let me make you some tea, huh?" 

Blair flashed a blinding smile as he headed back for his computer. "The peppermint tea in the blue tin would be perfect," he replied. "With a little honey?" 

Jim grinned, whispering as he turned back toward the kitchen. "You *are* a little honey," he muttered lovingly. 

"I *heard* that!" 

* * *

The Jags had lost to the Sonics and Jim had recieved the inevitable gloating phone call from Simon before the detective realised he'd let Sandburg work for another five and a half hours. It was now eleven-thirty, and he absolutely had to get the kid to go to sleep. 

"Hey Sandburg?" 

A cough was hastily supressed. "Yeah, Jim?" 

"You coming to bed?" 

"Yeah, in a few. I forgot to factor in the tests we did on your sense of smell... Set me back a little bit." 

Jim had been moving toward the study as his partner spoke, and he looked down at the kid, typing diligently away at his computer. His fever was up again. Definitely 102 by now. 

Jim took his lover by the hand and tried to lead him out of the room. "Come on, Chief. You're not going to do the dissertation any good if all you're writing is feverish ramblings." 

Blair stopped their movement and pulled his hand from Jim's grasp. "I'm not rambling, Jim," he maintained. "Look, lover, I know you want to help, but I really am fine. I'll just finish this section, and I'll be upstairs in an hour." 

Jim shook his head. The kid just did *not* know when to quit! 

Or maybe he *did*, another part of the detective's brain replied. Blair had been running himself ragged as a matter of course since he entered college at 16. Surely the kid knew when a cold had him licked and when it didn't. With a sigh, Jim gave Blair a peck on the cheek. 

"Okay, pal. One hour. Then I'm coming down here to carry you off." 

Blair smiled like a vixen. "Promise?" 

* * *

At one a.m., Jim had finally had enough of the sound of Blair's keyboard clicking in the darkness. He pulled himself out of bed and made his way down to the study, to find his partner, fever just as high as ever, typing away. He would turn to the numerous stacks of papers around him from time to time, ferreting out a reference, or looking up just *one* *more* piece of information. 

Jim moved to stand behind him, reading the words that his lover was typing into the machine. Supressing a smile, Jim reached out and took hold of his lover's shoulders. "Time for bed." 

"No, man, I'm making headway here!" Blair protested. But Jim wouldn't be swayed. Not this time. If Blair came to his senses to find that he'd spent the night writing nonsense phrases into his dissertation, the kid was going to be pissed. 

"No, Chief, you're not," the detective replied firmly. "Time for bed. I promised you I'd come down here and carry you off, didn't I?" 

Blair chuckled deep in his throat, as he saved the dissertation and shut off his computer. "Man, I don't know *what* you're expecting tonight, but..." 

Jim kissed him lightly on the forehead as he led him upstairs. "I'm not expecting anything but a quiet night in bed with my lover, lover." 

"Well, good," the younger man replied, as a huge yawn split his face. "Cause that's about all you're going to get." 

Jim stripped his young love, then himself, and curled them together under the comforter. As he felt Blair drifting off in his arms, Jim leaned in and kissed one hot cheek. 

"That's all I need."

* * *

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